


sunlight

by divinetock3



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Reader-Insert, this is straight up unnecessary domestic mush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-19
Updated: 2019-04-19
Packaged: 2020-01-16 05:52:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18515215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divinetock3/pseuds/divinetock3
Summary: the morning after, arthur wakes up feeling anything but regret.





	sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> yes this was inspired by hozier's 'sunlight' and no i don't know why i can't listen to this song without thinking of arthur?? maaaaaybe i'll write a prequel about the Night Before if i can ever be satisfied with how it turns out..

Arthur wakes to the light pressing against his eyelids. The curtains had parted in the middle of the night, the sun drearily glaring through. It's low in the pearly-blue sky--early morning--but it brings a surge of tired panic as he lifts his head off the pillow. A moment's disorientation fogs his head. Downstairs he can hear footsteps; someone's day is already beginning, likely Miss Grimshaw.

At his side [Name] stirs. "What time is it?" he asks, as if she would know. His voice is clouded from sleep.

Her hair is mussed about her head and her eyes stay shut as she hums, "Mm." He isn't sure what she's trying to say, but he understands when her arm snakes around his middle and she eases him back down to her. She tucks herself in, pressing a soft kiss to his chest. A hand circles his sternum as she peppers more kisses, eyes still shut.

"Jesus, woman, yer gonna make me forget my damn name."

She laughs low in her chest, the sound making his bones rumble. He feels it run through him. "That's what I'm hopin' for." As does her voice; it's sleepy and weighed down in her throat. "You stay in bed with me, we have a few more minutes..." The words drift off, and Arthur can't tell if it's because sleep is gripping her or not.

He makes to sit up again and she begins to utter complaint but is hushed when his calloused hand touches the smoothness of her cheek and he runs a thumb across the skin, reveling in its warmth. She stares up at him with what he hopes is fondness. This must be a dream. Arthur isn't the kind of man that gets what he wants and all he's wanted since she joined the gang was-- well, her. He's not that kind of man, and a big part of him knows he's struck gold. He doesn't deserve waking up next to someone like this, doesn't deserve to have her looking at him the way she is. 

Arthur isn't a boy anymore--hasn't been for a while--but she stirs something in him akin to childlike devotion. He drops his head, a little embarrassed and wanting to look away.

A smile cracks. She catches it--of course she does--and she'll never let him forget it. "What's wrong, pretty boy?"

"Nothin'," he says. "Gotta get downstairs. Dutch and I wanna go huntin'."

"We've a few more minutes of this, just us," she says. She keeps an easy tone, not wanting him to feel guilty, but there is a hurt there that even Arthur is smart enough to pick up on.

He strokes her cheek more gently. "'m right here."

"It's been so long," she says, "that I don't want to give you up just yet. Just-" She lifts her head and fits her lips to his. An innocent peck, but instantly his brain wipes clean, a fresh slate, and all he knows is the sweetness of her. "A few more..." she mumbles, aiding Arthur in settling between her hips, forearms on either side of her head, as the bed creaks and shifts to accommodate the movement. Her breath hitches at the press of him against her thigh, but Arthur wants to take his time, an apology for when he inevitably has to leave.

And so he kisses [Name] more strongly. She breathes him in, an ankle draping over his hip, and opens her mouth to him. Her nails dig into his shoulders and she urges him closer, the kiss growing sloppy from the early hour and desperation. All these years of fighting and killing and hurting, he wanted a noble death. Something that would make all the pain worth it, something that would keep the others afloat after he's gone. He never expected this to be the way he wanted to go out: the press of her hot skin against his chest and her fingers whispering up his neck and through his hair. He hasn't known a better peace.

When the door swings open, Arthur's first thought is fright that he allowed such a distraction that he couldn't even hear footsteps approaching. Second is keeping [Name] decent. She gasps, trying to shield herself, while Arthur hunches his shoulders around her. He turns to find Dutch, dressed and ready to go.

"Good to see you grew a pair overnight, son," says Dutch, fighting to mask the smirk crawling up his mouth. "We goin' to get some food or you gonna lay here all day?"

"Gimme a moment," Arthur grumbles.

Dutch huffs in what must be amusement before turning on his heel. At least he has the mind to shut the door behind himself.

"Jesus," she says once he's gone, breathless with embarrassment. Her cheeks and chest are cherry-red. She huffs a laugh. "Don't you boys knock?"

Arthur is up and out of bed, shoving aside the piece of him that feels empty without her skin on his anymore. "He don't care." He picks his clothes up off the floor and fights to hop back into them as quickly as possible. It's a little hard when she is sat up, the sheets leaving little to the imagination, as she stares up at him like a damn angel with her messy hair and chest still beaming red. "No secrets," he adds lowly, hearing the poorly-masked bitterness himself.

None of this was ever a problem before her. Before, Arthur didn't mind being woken in the middle of the night to take down a rival gang or go fetch medicine when someone fell ill. He liked helping. Otherwise he was the big lug he fought not to be: useless and wasting space. This was family and he wanted their approval. He wanted someone to be proud of him for once.

Now there's [Name], sent from heaven and looking at him like he could do no wrong, even when she's seen him do terrible, irrevocable things. She seems to be foolish enough to suspect there's something good in him, and damn if she isn't half-right. All the goodness in him pours out for her touch.

He comes to her side, sits on the edge of the bed. He pats her hair down--sloppily. It's as if he's petting a dog, but she leans into the touch, wanting more. "'m sorry," he offers halfheartedly. "It's somethin' I gotta do."

She takes his wrist and flips his hand over. His calloused, ugly palm, adorned by her gentle kisses. Then she lets go and sits up on her knees, the sheets pooling around her hips. "I understand," she says, and he knows she does. She's fought to be seen in this gang, just like him. She has worth to prove, too. "Come back in one piece, yeah?"

Obedient, Arthur bobs his head in a nod. She presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Arthur pats her knee and stands to leave. He sits his hat atop his head, forming to his head with memory. His hand is on the knob when she says, "Wait! Do you think Dutch will be...telling the others?"

"Ashamed?"

She shoots him a look he doesn't have trouble understanding: _Shut up._ "I don't wanna be hearing Micah in my ear."

Damn, he hadn't even thought of that. He nods once. He doesn't want her looking the way they'd interpret their union: her falling into bed to get ahead.

"Tonight...?"

Arthur looks back. The door is ajar, his boot keeping it open. There's a shyness in her face that blooms warmth in Arthur's chest. He'll do anything to have her alone again. He tips his hat. The giddy smile on her face is worth more than any job has ever given him. She blows a kiss just as the door shuts behind him.


End file.
